Snow Cones & Polar Bears
by Jael K
Summary: This is silly, utter fluff. And, as always, CaptainCanary, though it could be taken for friendship or early romance. Written for a Happy Prompts challenge at .com. Join us!


Written for a Happy Prompts challenge at .com. Join us!

Such utter fluff ...

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It starts when the latest mission takes them to National City in July 1997 ... and Rip, annoyed, has to find a new parking spot because the usual field is taken.

"Is that ... a carnival?"

"That is an annoyance, Ms. Lance." Rip is being extra crochety this trip, for reasons known only to himself. "A new site will be less convenient, but I suppose it will have to do this time."

The local university is home to the leading expert on the latest Savage-related artifact Rip has decided they need to track down, and the former Time Master departs post-haste with Kendra, Stein, and Ray in tow. Jax is deep in some tweaks to the ship, and Mick has raided Rip's liquor stash again.

There is, Sara figures, no reason she can't ... go for a walk .

"Thought I'd ask if you wanted to go find a drink, but it looks like you have ... other plans."

It's delivered in his usual infuriating drawl, and she rolls her eyes as she pauses on her way to the hatch.

"I'm not going to dress in white leather to go visit a carnival, Snart."

He doesn't bother to hide the way his eyes travel over her body in the yellow sundress. "Ah, but how many weapons can you fit in THERE?"

"More than you think. Stop being a creep." Then, on sheer and utter impulse: "Want to come with me?"

"Don't think so. Not my scene." But he falls into step with her as she continues.

"There used to be one every June not far from our home in Starling City. Laurel and I looked forward to it every year. It's silly, I guess, but it's just a ... nostalgia thing."

"Think it's a good idea to leave the ship alone?"

Especially since the '50s ... incident ... Rip has impressed upon them to at least stay in pairs, so they have backup if stranded. She hadn't thought Snart paid the least bit of attention to that.

"Probably not. Never been a fan of good ideas."

"I'll go."

His swift and slightly uncharacteristic turnaround has her lifting an eyebrow at him. "Careful. Someone might actually think you care."

"Perish the thought."

* * *

It doesn't take her long to wonder why she thought taking a snarky, grumpy crook with an aversion to heat to a summer carnival was a good idea.

He's been persuaded, barely, that the parka is just ridiculous and the black leather jacket isn't much better. So now, for one of the first times ever, she sees Leonard Snart in his shirt sleeves, looking somewhat uncomfortable ... and oddly vulnerable, although she'd never tell him that.

With him, of course, "uncomfortable" generally gets expressed as snark.

"So people really do this for fun."

"No one made you come, Snart." But she has a smile on her face as she walks through the midway at his side, looking absurdly young in that sundress, and he can't help but smile in return.

"What does one do at these things?"

She's about to jokingly ask him if he's seriously never done this before... when she realizes he probably hasn't. His childhood, after all, was not precisely conducive to fun.

"Oh ... eat too much junk food, ride things that make you want to puke, waste your allowance on the rigged games. That sort of thing."

"Sounds ... enjoyable." But his attention has been piqued her description. "Rigged, huh?"

"Well, some of them. Or just really hard to win without spending a ton of money."

"Hmph." He eyes a game that requires people to aim a watergun at a moving target. "Doesn't look so hard."

She stops to look at the stuffed polar bears displayed at the booth, reaching out to gently touch the red bow around one's neck. "We used to go to the carnival with Ollie ... Oliver Queen ... and his friend Tommy sometimes. Ollie'd try to win something for Laurel, but he was actually a really lousy shot then." Her lips curve. "So he'd wind up essentially just throwing money at it until he got one."

""Seems like it'd be easier to just do it yourself."

"Oh, that wasn't the point. The idea was that someone cared enough to win it for you. I was always so jealous."

Her tone is melancholy and a touch bitter now. He glances at her.

"And no one won you one?"

"Oh, I was just the obnoxious little sister at that point. By the time I was at a point where someone might want to, that didn't run the carnival any more. Budget cuts."

She pats the bear one more time and moves on. He follows.

* * *

Later, she does pause at a game that involves throwing darts into moving targets, nails every single one of them to win a huge stuffed dog, and then promptly gives it away to a pigtailed little girl. That makes even her jaded companion smile.

She's here more to walk around and soak in the nostalgia than anything else, but when they eventually end up at the base of the midway ferris wheel, she discovers an impulsive urge to ride. She buys two tickets and drags him with her.

"This was Laurel's favorite ride," she says as they start to rise. "I always liked the crazy ones, the fast ones, the ones that went upside down. I thought it was boring."

"And now?"

"I guess I can see the allure. It's kind of nice, just looking out over everything." She's silent a moment. "Calming."

"Hmmm." He leans forward, arms draped along the railing, hands clasped. "It is."

After another few minutes of silence, he speaks again. "Wasn't entirely honest when I acted like I'd never been to one of these before."

He's looking out at the scene. She listens in silence.

"There was one run by the local fire department nearby when I was a Lisa was 5, she wanted to go so much ... I scavenged pop cans and bottles around the neighborhood for a week to scrape up enough to take her.

"Didn't have that much, but it was enough to buy one snowcone for her, let her play the stupid duck pond game for a plastic pony, and get her on three rides. She had a blast." He shrugs. "Then we got home and my dad realized I'd spent money he could have spent on beer. But at least he took it out on me and not her."

"I'm sorry."

"Eh. Thanks. Lisa still remembers it fondly, so it was worth it."

She watches him as the ride finally slows to a stop.

"Soooo, Captain Cold has never had a snow cone."

He rolls his eyes at her. She grins.

"Oh, we have got to remedy this."

Despite his half-hearted protests, they do. She laughs when his teeth turn blue. He returns the favor when she gets brain freeze.

They've just started back to the ship, though, when he pauses for a moment, before turning around.

"I want to get a paper. Never know, the sports scores might come in handy for a wager or two if we're back in this year again."

"Cheater. Can't you just get those from Gideon?"

"Rip busted me last time and now she won't listen to me." He motions for her to continue. Reluctantly, she does.

* * *

He's back, without comment, before Rip and the others return, so she doesn't think anything more of it.

The others get back ... Rip even grumpier because, as usual, nothing has gone according to plan ... a course is set for 1967, and the Waverider and its crew are off again.

The memory of their small illicit adventure, however, keeps her smiling through the next round of planning.

Eventually, what passes for night on the ship arrives, and she trades one more amused glance with Snart and heads for her room.

She walks in the door ... and stops in her tracks, torn between laughter and a sudden, surprising pang of emotion.

Because there, sitting on her bed, is a fluffy white stuffed polar bear.

With a big red bow.


End file.
